


buried in the pillows

by Anonymous



Series: ARCADIA [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:35:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29161284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: he knows it's wrong to fantasise about george this way, but he can't bring himself to stop.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: ARCADIA [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2173221
Comments: 7
Kudos: 212
Collections: Anonymous





	buried in the pillows

Clay knows it’s wrong to think about George this way. Sure, George is stupidly attractive, but he’s straight and they’re just _friends._ Nothing more.

Despite it all, he can’t stop himself from imagining. The thought of George under him is one he revisits again and again, unable and unwilling to ignore it.

A stronger man would distance himself. A stronger man would smother his fantasies the moment they start. Clay knows he’s in too deep to even try.

The fantasies lead to late nights bucking into his fist, pretending he’s fucking into Georges pretty lips instead. He ends up having to leave voice calls early, arousal thick enough in his voice to be noticeable. He watches George stream on incognito, and takes screenshots of his lips, his hands, his eyes.

Clay wonders what it would be like to meet George in person. It starts off innocently enough, but soon enough he’s palming himself through his boxers, pale skin and pretty lips burned onto the back of his eyelids.

He imagines George, sat on his couch, in shorts and a shirt. He would wriggle back into the cushions, and his loose shorts would ruck up, exposing his milky thighs.

Briefly, he thinks about gripping the fat there until George is sobbing. He wants to mark George, give him bruises that last for weeks on end.

His cock twitches at the thought, and he pulls it out of his boxers. Pre-cum is already gathering on the tip, slick on his fingers as he languidly works himself over.

He rewinds the fantasy.

He’d sit next to George and cover them both in a blanket - partly to hide his growing erection, but mostly to hide what he was about to do to George.

He’d initiate, of course. George would reciprocate, gazing up at him with those big brown eyes, heavy lidded and wanting.

They’d get handsy, taking the time to touch and explore each other. Clay would run a hand up George’s shorts and squeeze the fat of his thighs just to watch him squirm.

George would be delightfully sensitive, gasping and wriggling with every touch. Clay would take advantage, of course. He’d run feather-light hands under George’s shirt, grazing his nipples and collarbones, drinking in every whine and whimper.

George would, in turn, touch him back. Unlike Clay, he would be needy with want. He would palm at the bulge in Clay’s shorts and clamber into his lap, a desperate attempt at getting things moving. Clay wouldn’t give in, intent on taking his time.

He’d take George’s wandering hand in his own, kissing every fingertip while grazing his nails over George’s ribs.

He’d tease and tease and tease until the brunet _crumbled._ More than anything, he wanted to hear George beg, wanted to hear his voice high and shaky with want. Clay wanted him trembling, whimpering, _broken._ He wanted to take George apart beneath him and piece him back together with burning touches and molten words.

And he would give in, eventually. George would beg to be fucked, voice breathy as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Clay would relent in his teasing and pick the poor boy up, effortlessly carrying him to the bed.

He imagined George on his back, with his legs spread and his flushed cock leaking onto his stomach. Tears would shine in his eyes, and his petite chest would heave with every panting breath.

Despite George’s skinny frame and his submissive demeanor, Clay couldn’t help but imagine that his dick would be big, contrasting perfectly with his scrawny body.

He would take his time, palming and kissing and touching George everywhere but his aching cock, revelling in the reactions he could get from only fleeting touches.

In response to George's weak cries, he’d move upwards. He’d nip and suck along his neck, leaving darkened bruises in his wake. George’s skin, ivory and unblemished, would look beautiful with stains, marked for everyone to see.

George would claw desperately at his biceps, his shoulders, his back, begging for Clay to stop teasing. In response, he’d grab George’s jaw and force the shaking brunet to look at him. George would meet his gaze with pleading eyes and pretty parted lips, already wrecked from so little.

Clay would flip him over, manhandling George until his face was buried into the pillows and his ass was in the air. He wouldn’t be able to resist touching him in that moment, running his hands over the back of perfectly soft thighs, admiring George's dick as it hung heavy between his legs.

George would groan, turning his head to stare at Clay. He imagined him doe-eyed and pleading, thin hands clutching desperately at the sheets.

“Please,” he’d pant, “wanna feel you.”

Clay would strip, and George would track his movements with a heavy-lidded gaze. He’d kneel back on the bed, stroking his cock as he drank in the sight of George below him. With one free hand, he’d reach out to knead at the pale flesh of his ass, watching the blood rush back as he moved his hand to George’s other cheek.

In reply, George would rock back into Clay’s touch and Clay would slap him, hard. Not out of anger, but out of the desire to see George break. He would slap him once more, dick twitching at the strangled sob George would let out.

Satisfied, he’d spread apart reddened cheeks and spit inside, before lining his dick up against George's hole.

George would bury his head into the pillows as he pushed in, the fabric only slightly muffling his drawn out moan. He would be warm and tight around Clay’s dick, legs spread for easier access.

Clay wouldn’t be able to resist. He’d pull out, leaving only the tip of his dick inside George, before slamming back inside. The brunet would have no time to adjust before he was being pounded into, grasping at the sheets and letting out pathetic little noises as Clay rammed him into the bed, merciless.

“Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod,” George would mumble, voice high and whiny as he was pushed into the pillows, body weak and ragdolling. Every time Clay hit deep, he would leak onto the sheets, desperate and wanting. The sound of their hips slapping together would leave him almost as breathless as the feeling of Clay deep inside of him.

George’s hair was short, but Clay would grab it anyways, using it to pull his head back and arch his spine. The man below him would keen at the manhandling, pale skin on display, taking more of Clay with every thrust.

His ass would fit perfectly in Clay’s large hands, skin red from being slapped and mercilessly pounded. George would look so good bouncing on Clay’s dick, his spine arched and his neck pulled back like he was made for it.

He would fuck George into the mattress until the brunet came untouched, all over the sheets. George would fuck himself back onto Clay’s dick as he cried out, moaning uncontrollably. His arms would buckle, and Clay would let him collapse - completely spent, his thighs shaking and his voice gone as Clay continued to lazily roll his hips.

Once it seemed like George had rode through his peak, Clay would grab his hips and use him again. He would whimper and wriggle, overstimulated and sensitive to every thrust, but Clay would only speed up, desperately chasing the building pleasure in his gut.

It would be too much - feeling George around him, hearing his pathetic cries and whimpers, staring at where George was stretched open on his cock. Feeling George clench around him would be the final straw, sending him tumbling over the edge.

He would come inside of George with a shout, grinding into his ass and filling him up, painting his insides white. He would stay sheathed inside until his legs couldn’t hold him up any longer. Then, he would lean back, and watch as his cum dripped from George’s hole.

Clay jerked his wrist, and came at the thought of giving George a creampie. It was so fucking dirty, so _wrong_ , but couldn’t stop himself from wanting it. As he wiped his soiled hand on his boxers, he wished, more than anything, that George had nights like these, too.

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this 4chan post](https://archived.moe/lgbt/thread/18871425/#18872335)


End file.
